


Rhubarb and Custard

by sharkplant



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: bottle sharing, spit is swapped, technically kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkplant/pseuds/sharkplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A preacher and a vampire talk about names and desserts (so nothing at all)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhubarb and Custard

**Author's Note:**

> so preacher is my new favourite thing as is reading about little texan things.  
> un-beta'd. all mistakes (in grammar, spelling or content) are all my own.

No breeze blowing through and All Saints Congregational felt too stuffy and too still. Stagnating in the night air like the rest of the town around it.

‘Cassidy,’ Jesse called without answer. He tried again. ‘Cass? You didn’t pass out without me now did ya?’ The preacher asks with levity, unsure if the so-proclaimed vampire could even blackout.

A high peal of Irish giggles stood in for an answer, the bench three rows from the back shuddering wood on wood against the floor. ‘Ya wish, Padre.’

‘D’you even speak Spanish, Cass?’ Jesse asked, sitting himself casual-like in the row behind Cass, leading his arms on the back of the pew in front, peering over at his friend. Cass was staring at nothing behind his glasses, hands resting gentle on his sternum, bottle of Ratwater between his thighs.

‘Culo del hamster.’

‘What?’

‘Ass hamster.’ He looks to Jesse. ‘Don't ask.’

‘Alright, I won't.’ Jesse grabs the whiskey, unscrews the lid and takes a decent sip. It settles warm in his gut, the feeling safe, shoulders droping a half inch of tension.

‘Jesse Custer.’ 

‘Yeah?’ He takes another sip, more like a mouthful before setting it down beside him.

‘Cuss-terr.’

‘That's me.’

‘What the fuck kinda name is t'at though?’ Cassidy sits up, stretching his legs to rest on the pew in front of him, and his arms either side of his head. ‘I mean sure it _sounds_ Texan. I mean more Texan than...I don't know...what's something Texan?’ His head drops back, looking to the Custer in question for answers.

‘Deep fried sweet tea?’ Jesse offers.

Cass looked scandalised. ‘No. No. No fucking way t'ats real. T'at's not real.’

‘You're a vampire but deep fried sweet tea is an impossibility?’

‘Hey now! Don't be racist.’

Jesse laughs softly. 

‘But seriously, ya have t’at? T’at’s an actual thing?’

Jesse shrugged. ‘Texas State Fair. I dunno what else to tell you.’

‘How do ya deep fry a liquid? T'at defies the laws of physics and sens- I’m getting off topic!’ Cassidy snatches the shades off his face. 'Serious time now with my serious face.’ He points to the severe lines carved into his features. ‘What the shite kinda name is Custer?’

Jesse had been busy with setting himself up a cigarette. His words were blurred by the stick in the corner of his lips as he dug for a lighter, struggling to catch a flame. ‘The shit kinda name is Cassidy?’ He grinned as the cherry caught and began to smoulder.

‘Touché, good sir.’ Cassidy grabbed back the Ratwater, downing a shlug.

Jesse took a drag, tapping some ash to the floor. ‘You got a another name? Or are you actually some big shot we haven't heard about?’

‘The shite ya talking about?’

‘I dunno, Cher only has one name. Madonna.’

‘Cassidy not enough for ya?’

‘Just curious is all.’

‘Alright, cut ya a deal. Tell me what the hell sorta name Custer is and I'll tell ya my first name.’

‘Cassidy’s your Christian name.’ It isn't a question.

‘Fuck off.’ He drinks again. ‘Ya in or not?’

Jesse takes the bottle and drinks. ‘Custer. Uh, it's German.’ He smokes. ‘Means caretaker of the church.’

‘Well t’at's fitting.’ Cass remarks, leaning over and stealing the preachers cigarette.

‘Hey! I was smoking that!’

Cassidy burns the stick down. ‘Continue.’ He motions for Jesse to do so.

Jesse smiles into space. ‘I dunno know if there is anythin’ else.’

‘Fair enough. Deal is a deal. Pronsheus.’

‘Pronshess.’

Cassidy considers his friend's pronunciation. ‘Not bad.’

‘And what's that mean?’

‘Eh, well it's a proper noun. Irish variant of Francis. As in the Saint,' Cass clarifies.

‘Assisi?’

Cass nods and drinks. ‘T'at's the one.’

Jesse takes the bottle. ‘Well you're the least saintly man I've ever met.’

‘Well your name sounds like custard,’ Cassidy retorts.

Jesse frowns.‘You wound me, Cass.’

Cassidy wasn't listening, smoking thoughtfully. ‘Does that make me the rhubarb?’

‘You are certainly obscure. Tall 'nd thin.' Jesse frowns for a moment. 'An acquired taste maybe?’

Cass raised a brow. ‘Careful, Padre. People will talk if they hear you saying shite like t'at.’

Jesse just shrugged and took another slug of whiskey. ‘There's already plenty other rumours going around about me. What's one more, right?’

‘Fair enough.’ Cassidy stood and stretched, his worn-thin charity shirt a size too small riding up. He leans toward Jesse, taking a final drag and blowing it into his face. He presses the last quarter of their cigarette between the man's lips, reaching for the whiskey. ‘You've got a sermon to prepare so I’m going to curb my being a bad influence and hang upside down in the belfry now. Nightly night, Padre.’

Cassidy pecks a kiss to Jesse’s nose, straightens and drinks as he extracts himself from the pew, stumbling in the direction of the stairs.

Jesse sat stunned. The cherry burnt close to his mouth and there was whiskey on his nose. The sun was soon to be rising in the Texan sky and he had no theme yet for his Sunday sermon.

‘I’m so fucked.’

**Author's Note:**

> NEW EPISODE TOMORROW SO #HYPE #JESSECUSTARD


End file.
